Mind Game (GhostWalkers #2)(59)
Author: Christine Feehan

Her fingers fisted in his hair. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.” His hands whispered over her thighs, added to the heat building in the room, building in her body. Dahlia heard her own soft moan and moved restlessly, needing more. Aching in places she didn’t know she had.

Nicolas rested his forehead on her stomach for just a moment, trying to catch his breath. His hands trembled as he caressed her skin. He wanted to go slow, to make this time perfect for Dahlia, but the pressure inside of him was building in direct proportion to the heat surrounding them. It felt as if a volcano lived and breathed inside of him. He wanted to ravage her, drag her into his arms and devour her hungrily, but he forced a slow assault, using his years of discipline to savor the softness of her skin. To hear her small gasps as he kissed his way along the curve of her hip and the nip of her waist. His tongue teased each rib and found the underside of her breast.

Dahlia nearly came off the bed. “Nicolas, it’s too much.” She had two handfuls of his hair, her h*ps moving restlessly in invitation, but her eyes wide with fear. “I don’t know if I can stay in control.”

He nibbled his way around her small breast. “The beauty of sex is that you aren’t supposed to stay in control. You get to let go.” His breath was hot against her nipple, teasing it into a tight peak.

“What if I start a fire?”

“What if you don’t? What if we have our own fire, right here, burning between us, using up all that wonderful energy? I’m willing to try.” He closed his mouth around the tantalizing invitation of her breast. “I’m more than willing to try.”

She cried out, wrapping her arms around his head to cradle him to her as lightning forked through her body. If fires started around her, she wasn’t certain she’d know; she was burning from the inside out, a conflagration she couldn’t hope to put out. There was only Nicolas with his sinful mouth and his commanding hands and the sheer pleasure coursing through her body. The energy building heightened her senses, drove the heat through her until she felt liquid and needy.

His hands were everywhere, but never fast, moving with leisurely slowness, as if they had all the time in the world. Dahlia didn’t know if she could stand the slow assault on her body. His mouth moved over her breast, nuzzled her nipple and flicked it with his tongue. Each time he pulled at her breast a fresh trickle of warm welcoming liquid glistened invitingly between her legs.

His hand glided up her thigh, cupped her entrance. Dahlia gasped as his finger slipped into her.

“You’re so tight, honey, and so hot, and I don’t know if I can wait.”

“I don’t think you should.”

“You have to be ready for me. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. There’s no reason for it. It just takes a little bit of patience.” He rested his head on her stomach while his finger pushed deeper into her. His tongue traced the edge of her triangle. “I can be patient.” He prayed for patience.

“I don’t think I can.” Dahlia looked up to see sparklers in the air. Her hair crackled with the building electricity. “We have to do something right now.”

Nicolas took her gasping plea as an invitation. He lowered his head between her thighs, one arm, an iron band, thrown across her to hold her down for his assault.

Dahlia’s wits scattered in all directions, a sob escaping, her body rising up off the bed, writhing against the sheets. “I can’t breathe.” She was going to shatter into a million pieces. The entire room was going to go up in flames. The sparklers were bursting into colors overhead and raining down. She heard her own cry, a raw shout of pure passion she couldn’t suppress as tremors shook her, and the lightning now seemed to sizzle through every vein, ever cell and nerve ending.

Nicolas slid over her, his wide shoulders blocking out everything in the room as he pushed her thighs wider to accommodate him. She pushed forward desperate to feel him inside her. Every single part of her body was throbbing for him.

“I’ll be careful, Dahlia. I’ll do my best to stay in control and make sure there’s little chance you’ll get pregnant.”

“You don’t have to worry about getting me pregnant,” Dahlia said, her hands bunched in his hair. She wanted him deep inside her more than she wanted anything. He just stayed there, pressing part way into her and driving her wild. “I’m on birth control.”

His head reared back, his black eyes moving over her face. Edgy. Almost angry. “Why the hell would you be on birth control if you aren’t sleeping with anyone? Who, Dahlia? Calhoun?”

She stared back at him for a long moment. “Are you insane? You’re going to get jealous because I’m on birth control when it’s obvious I’ve never been with a man?”

Nicolas groaned. His entire body was on fire, was as hard as it could be, and he was arguing with her over something utterly ridiculous. Of course she hadn’t been with anyone, and what difference would it make if she had? He hardly recognized his own primitive reactions. The sexual energy surrounding them had to be stimulating every reaction and heightening his senses and emotions. “Yes, I am insane,” he admitted. “I want you so much I don’t even know what the hell I’m saying anymore.”

“Then shut up and kiss me. And for God’s sake, Nicolas, get inside of me before this entire island goes up in flames.”

He leaned down as she strained upward to find his mouth with hers. He kissed her with every fiber of his being, a hot blend of passion and possession. Their mouths clung together until she fell back, her h*ps rising to meet the slow thrust of his. He was stretching her, pushing through her hot, slick folds, burying his body deep to join them together. He felt thick and hard and too big for her body. The burning increased as he thrust deeper.

“Nicolas.” She didn’t know if it was a protest or a plea. Lights were dancing behind her eyelids and flames licked at her skin like tiny tongues. Real or imaginary, was beyond her determination. She wanted to lift her hips, to drive herself onto him, yet at the same time, she wanted to run from the waves of sensations she couldn’t stop. The world as she’d always known it seemed to come crashing down around her in splashes of color and sparks and waves of intense pleasure that rocked her body.

She clung to him, digging her fingers into his arms to anchor herself in some reality. The sexual energy crackled and danced around them, through them, building the pleasure almost to the point of pain. He moved. She cried out. He caught her hands and pulled them over her head, gripping her tightly while he surged in and out of her.